Writer, Editor, Social Media Human (chamrickstoryteller@gmail.com)

The Naming of Cats is a difficult matter,
It isn’t just one of your holiday games;
You may think at first I’m as mad as a hatter
When I tell you, a cat must have THREE DIFFERENT NAMES.
First of all, there’s the name that the family use daily,
Such as Peter, Augustus, Alonzo or James,
Such as Victor or Jonathan, George or Bill Bailey—
All of them sensible everyday names.
There are fancier names if you think they sound sweeter,
Some for the gentlemen, some for the dames:
Such as Plato, Admetus, Electra, Demeter—
But all of them sensible everyday names.
But I tell you, a cat needs a name that’s particular,
A name that’s peculiar, and more dignified,
Else how can he keep up his tail perpendicular,
Or spread out his whiskers, or cherish his pride?
Of names of this kind, I can give you a quorum,
Such as Munkustrap, Quaxo, or Coricopat,
Such as Bombalurina, or else Jellylorum-
Names that never belong to more than one cat.
But above and beyond there’s still one name left over,
And that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover—
But THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation,
The reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation
Of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable effable
Effanineffable
Deep and inscrutable singular Name.

Follow me on Twitter

Blog Stats

My Other Blog: Random Storyteller

I never toe-squished from a rocky shore To wade into a duck-and-water cover That would salvage my muddy, sidestepping soul. The Mississippi sun’s baptismal fire Plunged me into turquoise-tiled bliss While polka dots snowed my slick lime Speedo— A state of grace fogging my goggles. This meditation ran long and lean, Paced by thirty-two concrete-grazed […]

In the dead of August, A few leaves yellow-scuttled yards Unready for rakes, autumn’s casual brush by— A 68-degree flirt with sweater weather after a fine rain. In a deeper South, the Amazon burned; The slideshow played, a frame or two, On a small screen, swiped by android thumbs Tracking the finer points of the […]